Monday, May 21, 2012

Spilled soup

My ears have no more room for listening. My heart has no more room for understanding. My nerves have fatigued of their ability to hold me back from wringing the necks of rude humans shopping for frivolous plants or breaking down in tears at a story of a nephew shot in Afghanistan, or explaining to you why your ears are ringing and that there's nothing we can do about it.  I'm like a bowl of soup filled too full and spilling over; what once was warm, nourishing and sustaining, is now nothing but a mess slopping all over the floor.

Why do I need to find a way to connect with everyone? Why do I need to make everyone else feel at ease, understood, relieved of their burdens?

Why does my way of interacting with the world end up overwhelming me? Why can't I figure out a better way?

Solitude.  I need you.